


Introductions are Boring

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Not Waving but Drowning [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brother relationship, Brotherly Love, E-mails, Epilepsy, Gen, JME, Janz Syndrome, Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy, Mog the Secret Cat, Mycroft loves Sherlock implicitly, Myoclonic Epilepsy, Sherlock wants to be a Chemistry wizard, Sorry about the format, Stigmatised, epileptic, fraternal love, seizure disorder, social stigma, stigma - Freeform, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock starts his first term in the upper sixth, and Mycroft is on hand to keep him right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introductions are Boring

**Author's Note:**

> It's about 3.30am here in Coventry and I am still up. Alas, I needed to get this posted because I had fun writing it. I hope you enjoy.

**To: Mycroft Holmes  
** From: Sherlock Holmes  
Subject: Introductions are boring. 

I’ve got an assignment for my upper sixth induction; we have to write an ‘Introduce Yourself’ essay. What is has to do with anything I’m studying, I’m left wondering. But it’s a compulsory assignment for the Personal Development class that all upper sixth students have to do.  
What do I say?  
P.S. Are you coming home for Halloween?

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: Re: Introductions are boring. 

I had hoped you wouldn’t find e-mail entertaining. It seems I overlooked the appeal you would take to having immediate access to people. Insufferable, as always, little brother.  
As far as introducing yourself, I would stick to the basics. You’re only introducing yourself to those who’ve joined the school for A-Levels, everybody else is already well aware of who you are. I do feel sorry for those individuals.  
And in references to your postscript; yes, I will be home at Halloween. But before you suggest it, no there will be no party. 

 

**To: Mycroft Holmes  
** From: Sherlock Holmes  
Subject: Initial idea for my essay. Thoughts? 

My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this isn’t what I want to be doing with my time. I intend to study chemistry - which unfortunately means combining all three sciences initially - and mathematics. My older brother studied here, too, and is now at university and is getting ridiculously fat and being horrifically homosexual. I also intend to continue my studies at university with the goal of focusing solely on chemistry.  
That’s it. Do you think that’ll be enough?

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: Re: Initial idea for my essay. Thoughts? 

Sherlock, that is the single most ridiculous thing you have ever penned. Be a little more original and a little less of a mouthy idiot. 

 

**To: Mycroft Holmes  
** From: Sherlock Holmes  
Subject: The essay. BETTER!? 

My name is Sherlock Holmes, my older brother Mycroft also attended this school and he is currently at University - the very same University I intend to study at once I finish my A-Levels. I am focusing my A-Levels on the sciences and maths, but I intend to bring that down to finally focusing on Chemistry in the future with the goal of leading this all the way through University, perhaps to graduate as a chemist and work in the field of research.  
When I was eleven I was given the diagnosis of epilepsy which I am more than aware that most of you know. This disorder has now followed me for five years, something that I am stigmatised with daily although, most days I am now seizure-free once the first hours of the morning have passed. It is my inherited love of science and this very diagnoses that have helped to cement why I want a career in chemistry; I have trialled two forms of anticonvulsant medication that both claim to do the same job yet have acted completely differently within my body and I want to understand why.  
I want to be a person of notable success within my chosen field to help to remove the stigma associated with epilepsy. I want to eradicate the idea that the word epilepsy is all that defines the person who carries it around with them every day. I want to be the very symbol of not allowing epilepsy hold you back from being or doing what you want, and of not allowing the stares and preconceptions of others hold you back.

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: Re: The essay. BETTER!? 

Delightfully honest, little brother. I’m sure it’ll please Mrs Hunniford. You do have old Hunniford for Personal Development, yes?  
Sherlock - I’ve never heard you be so candid about your diagnosis. Why would you not talk to me about it this way? I’ve been with you every step, Sherlock, and never stigmatised you. I would never. You know that you can talk to me about this, and anything, don’t you?

 

**To: Mycroft Holmes  
** From: Sherlock Holmes  
Subject: Re: re: The essay. BETTER!? 

I do, yes. She seems agreeable enough.  
Did you get a hit to the head, Mike? That’s entirely too sentimental. 

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: - 

Sometimes, brother dear, you forget that we are just that - brothers. For our entire lives we will be brothers and, though we rarely acknowledge it, that is an important part of who we are. We stick together, despite ourselves.  
Sincerely, though, Sherlock. You don’t ever feel as though I see you just as your diagnosis, do you?

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: - 

Sherlock?  
I’ll be out of the country for a day or two, then I’ll be returning home. I won’t be back home, but I will return to the University. I’m still returning home for the Halloween break. I shall see you then?

 

**To: Mycroft Holmes  
** From: Sherlock Holmes  
Subject: Re: - 

I submitted the essay to Mrs Hunniford. She was emotional and said that I clearly possessed the drive to go far in whatever my desired profession might be. She also went on to announce to the class that she had the pleasure, now, of teaching both of the Holmes boys and hoped I’d be as promising as you were. I don’t know about a stigma of epilepsy, now; I’m more in the shadow of being your little brother.  
And, yes, the Halloween break is looking promising; the parents are going to Sussex and we’ll be home alone so, if you desire, you can change your mind on that party idea. I know a guy who knows a guy, if you catch my line of thinking.  
I’ve been approached by our doctor about beginning another medication - it seems Mummy told them the Rivotril wasn’t doing its job correctly. It begins with an L, but I don’t recall the name properly. I’ll do some research and I’ll think about it.  
How is University, positively riveting I expect? Are you still seeing Peter McGivern? I did like that guy - he seemed to think you were extraordinary, though I can’t imagine why.  
When you’re back in the country, e-mail me with as much information on all the Government secrets you got. 

 

**To: Sherlock Holmes  
** From: Mycroft Holmes  
Subject: Government Secrets? Brother mine, you are mistaken. 

I am home, brother dear, and preparing to come home for Halloween break.  
I sincerely fear for whoever you choose to consummate wedding vows with, Sherlock, they will be the most unfortunate of people. No - I am no longer involved with Peter and he did not consider me to be extraordinary. And no, Sherlock; my University does not regularly dole out Government secrets, though it does continue to keep me educated and well-informed, so I mustn’t grumble too much.  
Dear old Hunniford; she always did like me. Perhaps being in my shadow with her is a good thing; she can fail to notice how singularly disgusting you can be. Be kind to her, Sherlock, she is harmless.  
Halloween break alone with you sounds horrifying. If you bring alcohol or any form of illegal substance onto the premises, I will tackle you to the ground. Do not think that I won’t.  
The Rivotril isn’t working? Perhaps another medication change right now, right at the start of your new school term when you’re beginning your influential subjects isn’t a good idea? Besides, I thought your seizures were more controlled? Haven’t you gone months without a ‘big one’? If this isn’t true, Sherlock, you have to tell me. I hate to think you’re going through things that you feel you can’t share with me - specifically in this area.  
I will see you in a week. 

 

 

When Mycroft arrived at the family home for the beginning of the end of term break, he found the house deserted but for Mog - Sherlock’s secret cat-friend that everybody knew about. He let himself in and set his bags down in the hallway as Mog purred around his ankles. In the past, he would perhaps have booted the kitty in the behind, but he couldn’t find the inclination to do it. He bent at the waist, patted her about the head such as she was looking for, and straightened again quickly. He made himself comfortable in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea in his old favourite mug. As he routed around the cabinet for the mug, his stomach knotted when his eyes fell upon the stacked boxes of Sherlock’s medication - the physical distance that University brought had somehow allowed him to be emotionally distant from Sherlock’s health, too, and seeing the pills lined up in their numerous boxes only made his mind run with memories of the more severe seizures he’d witnessed and, most emotionally, the day Sherlock received his diagnosis. 

Mycroft was comfortable in the fireside chair in the lounge with Mog at his feet when Sherlock arrived home at four-thirty. He’d grown, Mycroft noticed first, and his hair was a little shorter than it used to be but still as curly and unruly atop his head as ever. His skin was paler, so clearly he was tired, and he oddly offered a smile by way of hello. 

“Little brother,” Mycroft offered, tipping his cup toward Sherlock with a smirk. 

“I see you’ve met Mog.” Sherlock grinned, throwing his bag behind the sofa and flopping down onto the furniture heavily. “Tea in the pot?” 

“It’ll be cold now.” Mycroft said bluntly, placing his cup down onto the coffee table. “Did they leave this morning?” 

“Mummy and Dad? Yes.” Sherlock nodded, rolling his eyes. “It took them half an hour to remind me to be careful.” 

Mycroft smirked fondly. “Such is their wont.” 

“Mrs Hunniford sends her regards,” Sherlock said, throwing his head back on the sofa. He massaged his temples with his long, slim fingers and Mycroft watched the action and computed it, remind himself to be vigilant. _Headache...seizure…_.

“Did she?” He replied offhandedly. “Sweet old dear, really.” 

“She couldn’t believe it when I told her how fat you’ve gotten.” Sherlock sighed then laughed, peering down his nose at his brother. “Sincerely, she is fond of you.” 

“She will be of you, too, if you continue to behave.” Mycroft said lightly, getting to his feet and disturbing Mog as he nudged her away from his ankles. “I thought perhaps we could have dinner together in town?” 

Sherlock crinkled his nose and sat himself up on the sofa in a more acceptable manner of lounging. “Not hungry.” 

“But then you never are.” Mycroft tilted his head. “Change out of your uniform, and fix your bloody hair. I’ll call us a cab in twenty minutes so be ready.” He watched Sherlock draw himself unceremoniously to his feet. “Move then,” Mycroft jibed. “Silly little boy.” 

“In fact,” Sherlock wrinkled his face playfully, “I’m taller than you, brother dear. But then again, if you’re paying for dinner we might as well go somewhere good.” He sauntered from the room swinging his hips, a singular habit Mycroft had observed in Sherlock since he was thirteen. Insufferable and argumentative, and entirely his own person. Stigma or not, Sherlock definitely demanded attention for himself, and not his associations.


End file.
